


Things He Did for Her Because of Him

by dirtylittlegreasemonkey



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 07:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6895012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylittlegreasemonkey/pseuds/dirtylittlegreasemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He set a date for the wedding because the lad at the pub (Aaron, Aaron, Aaron – round and round and hot on his tongue) was gay."</p>
<p>Aaron and Robert's affair told through snapshots of things Robert did and said to Chrissie to mask his escalating feelings for Aaron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things He Did for Her Because of Him

**Author's Note:**

> Follows canon but loosely expands on things Robert might have done for Chrissie to appease his guilt.

He set a date for the wedding. February, when it would be cold and crisp and their breath would tangle in white air and her skin would rise with shivers. He set a date for the wedding because the lad at the pub ( _Aaron, Aaron, Aaron_ – round and round and hot on his tongue) was gay. He had a small perfect mouth. His skin would itch with stubble burn. He’d pressed her into the sofa and heard a squeal unfurl from lips he kissed, but not thinking of her at all. The muscles of _his_ throat instead, the amber tang of downed lager and the soft flicked tilt of his head. It was safe to think of him when he was nothing but a fantasy. Now the invitation challenged him like prongs through his senses.

He set a date for the wedding.

*

He sat with her and watched her bathe. Dipping his fingers in the bubbled water like the froth of champagne and listened to the lowlights of her day. “I really am sorry for today,” she said, lips pouted out for him. He sat with her and watched her bathe because he’d come, over the backseats of a stranger’s car and again, into the perfectly drawn ‘oh’ of Aaron’s mouth. They’d touched each other, until they were blind from it, breathless in the rocking car chassis, Aaron’s hand loose and uncertain on Robert’s hip. The darkness of the garage frightened away his inhibitions and Robert watched Aaron bite down into his lip and his eyes swirl backwards. He took him into his mouth. Smooth, explosively hot. He knew he’d have to taste him again.

He sat with her and watched her bathe.

*

He told her he loved her and he was sorry. About the rings, about being kicked out of the wedding, about spending the day apart. He told her he loved her because he’d pressed his nose into Aaron’s cheek, lips parted and wet, and breathed him in. And kissed him. A long, unbroken, solid-pulsed kissed that pulled their bodies together as one. The air had that Christmas stillness, frost on the side roads and starlight webs of ice on the oak branches. He’d pulled-up along a farm track and taken the keys out of the ignition. The sun was beginning to set, an orange bleed across a cloudless grey. _Where does she think you are?_ Aaron’s lips were a fierce, bitten red. They kissed again, tongues slow and possessive. _Making up with my family._ Aaron let him unbutton his shirt halfway and looked down until his fingers moved to his fly. _Isn’t that’s what you should be doing?_ Robert unfastened his own suit trousers. Smiled. _This is what I want, right here_.

He told her he loved her and he was sorry.

*  

He bought her the shoes. The Gianvito Rossi heels. The ones she’d coveted for months wrapped in tissue paper and presented in a neat box. He bought her the shoes because he’d turned his head on the hotel pillow to face Aaron and they’d both smiled at the same time. _What?_ Aaron had said, even though three minutes before he’d been stripped of consonants, his body writhed and raw. The frown had smoothed, replaced by a cool indifference. _Nothing,_ Robert had said, his vision pleasantly hazy. He shuffled closer to him, his arm bridging the gap. Fresh linen, damp skin. A tired, shaky kiss. _You_ , he thought.

He bought her the shoes.

*

He made love to her. Let her cry out her fears and failures about being a mother. He wiped her face with his finger and kissed and shushed into her hair. Her first night home. New bed sheets. He made love to her because he had told Aaron, with the certainty of gravity, that he loved him. At the back of the pub, rushed and panicked, on the staircase and then, days later, when the estate was empty and Aaron was curled and showered in a borrowed robe. Staying the night. _I love you_. His hair was delicate in shampooed curls and waves. Eyes blue and blinking. _Did you hear?_ Another blink, a self-conscious set of arms wrapped around himself. _I heard_. Martial bed, said for the fifth time into his skin.

He made love to her.

*

He made her chilli. Her favourite. Paprika and sliced roquito peppers. He made her chilli because he’d felt the warm press of Aaron’s body against his again and pushed his mouth against his skin. The pan spat with oil and he felt the cold thud of the portacabin wall against his spine. _It’s been so long, it’s been so long_. His body thrummed. Aaron had stripped him and there was a gasp, somewhere low and deep when their bodies landed against the desk. “Is this for me?” she said and he lost sense of his body again thoughts thrown back to the scrapyard, eyes watered and heavy. He grunted against Aaron’s throat, skimmed hands over his belly, bunching his shirt. Both of them musty and work-warm from a day on the farm. _Touch me_. And then he did, long, hurried strokes. Laboured breathing.

He made her chilli.

*

He took her away for the night. Wined, dined. Ran his hands along the length of her body in the late summer heat. “You’ve started working such late hours again,” she said. He took her away for the night because Aaron had skimmed his thumb across his stomach, up to his nipples and said with eyes slicked to black with desire, _Let me_. “I’m sorry,” he said to her, waving his hand dismissively, brushing away the memory of Aaron climbing on top of him. “Everything’s picking up with the scrapyard and with your dad’s investment.” She bristled. “You’re always there.” And he was. Extra hours, extra minutes. Rimmed to insanity in a locked van they hadn’t begun dismantling for scraps, persuaded back to the pub, back to Aaron’s bed for a slow, quiet screw. He felt himself making promises to him, knowing he would break them.

He took her away for the night.

*

He told her it was a mistake. That he didn’t love him.

He told her it was a mistake because the fear of it kept him awake at night.

He told her it was a mistake.   

 


End file.
